


Reporting For Duty

by AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous Relationships, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I take prompts, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, Mild Gore, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Sweaters, Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 13,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8271685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed/pseuds/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed
Summary: A collection of fluffy thingies because why the fuck not, hope you like. Mostly Quakerider





	1. Sleeping Bag (FitzSimmons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fitz gets into a bit of a predicament with a sleeping bag

_Snap_.

Fitz froze, then looked down. "Oh, no..." Fumbling slightly, he scooted to the bottom of the sleeping bag, and tried to unzip it.

The goddamn zipper had broken off.

Why had he agreed to test the new thermal-energy conserving sleeping bag that the lab had made? Coulson wanted test results, and so being the gentleman that he was, Fitz had valiantly volunteered to try it out, rather than Simmons.

He regretted it now.

He tried to pry it open. It wouldn't budge. He tried to rip the fabric with the spare scalpel Simmons always made him carry around, "just in case."

Of course, they'd had the bright idea to engineer the bag to be bullet-proof, so a sharp scalpel did nothing.

Fitz crawled towards the small opening, and started to call for help.

"Simmons! Mack! Daisy! Anybody?" he shouted.

Silence.

Sweat started beading on Fitz's brow. He'd be cooked like a Christmas turkey if he didn't get out soon.

"Don't panic, Fitz," he told himself. "This is a good thing. It shows flaws in the design, which we can fix. I can get out of this."

So, being the optimistic little darling that he was,  he did what anyone would do.

He started inching his way out of the lab, bit by bit.

To make contact with civilization.

* * *

 

Simmons wasn't really paying attention to her surroundings. She was focused on the tablet that was displaying the data for some of the new equipment she had Fitz had been working on.

"Jemma! Thank heavens, I'm saved!"

She looked up. Only to see a sleeping bag moving towards her of its own accord.

She shrieked, and scrambled backwards.

"No, Jemma, wait! It's me! It's Fitz!"

Simmons stopped short. "Fitz? What the hell are you doing in a sleeping bag?!"

"I got stuck!" The front wiggled a little, and Fitz's face poked out.

"What- how?" she asked, perplexed.

"I was testing the new sleeping bag, and the zipper broke off!" he exclaimed. "I can't get out!"

"Oh my God, Fitz!" Simmons said exasperatedly.

"Get me out! I'm cooking in here!"

Simmons knelt down beside him. "It's only the inside zipper," she noted. "The outside one is completely intact." She started to unzip it, but noticed something.

"Why did you seal it up? You could've gotten out if-"

"Simmons, can we talk about this later?" Fitz pleaded. "I'm dying of heatstroke in here!"

"Right, sorry."

In no time, she'd released him from his furnace of a prison.

Fitz scrambled out, sighing in relief as the cool air of the compound greeted him.

Simmons had to laugh as she brushed away the sweaty curls plastered to his forehead.

"You're such a funny thing, Fitz."

"Water," he wheezed.

She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Alright. Let's go get your water."

"You...test it...next time," he said breathlessly.

"Alright."


	2. Daisy Bell(StaticQuake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lincoln uses one of my favorite childhood songs to propose

"Lincoln's been acting so weird lately," Daisy said to Simmons. "I can't figure out why."

Simmons smiled. "I'm sure it's nothing," she said reassuringly.

"I just hope he doesn't want us to call it all off," Daisy worried.

"I wouldn't fret, if I were you."

Daisy frowned at her friend. "What's that supposed to-"

The intercom crackled, and instantly a medley of notes began playing out. "Is that...bagpipes?" Daisy asked. Simmons tried not to laugh.

_"There is a flower within my heart,_

_Daisy, Daisy,_

_Planted one day by a glancing dart,_

_Planted by Daisy Bell._

_Whether she loves me or loves me not_

_Sometimes it's hard to tell_

_Yet I am longing to share the lot_

_Of beautiful Daisy Bell,"_

a strikingly familiar voice came on over the intercom.

 

"What the hell...?" Daisy muttered.

The song continued.

 

_"We will go tandem as man and wife_

_Daisy, Daisy,_

_Pedaling our way down the road of life_

_I and my Daisy Bell._

 

_When the roads and we both despise_

_P'licemen and lamps as well,_

_There are bright lights in the dazzling eyes_

_Of beautiful Daisy Bell."_

Lincoln came into the room, followed by Fitz cradling bagpipes.

"Lincoln, what-?"

 

_"I will stand by you in wheel or woe,_

_Daisy, Daisy,_

_You'll be the bell which I'll ring you know,_

_Sweet little Daisy Bell._

 

_You'll take the lead on each trip we take_

_Then if I don't do well_

_I will permit you to use the brake,_

_Beautiful Daisy Bell."_

 

Lincoln walked towards her,  holding a microphone in one hand, the song still going over the intercom.

 

 _"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do_ ," Lincoln sang.

_"I'm half crazy_

_All for the love of you._

_It won't be a stylish marriage;_

_I can't afford a carriage,_

_But you'll look sweet_

_Upon the seat_

_Of a bicycle built for two."_

He knelt on one knee in front of Daisy, pulling out a small black box. Fitz puffed on his bagpipes as Lincoln continued singing, while Simmons did everything in her power not to laugh at Fitz’s red cheeks.

_"But you'd look sweet, on the seat_

_Of a bicycle built for two_

_Of a bicycle built for two_

_Of a bicycle built for two_

_For two, for two, for two,_ " he finished, opening the box to reveal a small diamond ring. Fitz played the last few notes, and the room was silent.

"So, uh, what do you say?" Lincoln asked nervously. "Will you marry me, Daisy Johnson?"

After a few moments of speechlessness, Daisy threw her arms around him and kissed him.

"Of course I will, you wonderful dork."

"Oh, good. I was scared for a second."

Daisy laughed.

"Agent Campbell!" Coulson shouted, storming into the room with May on his heels. "What the hell do you mean by hijacking the audio of the compound?"

"He was  proposing to Daisy, Sir," Simmons put in. "You agreed to this, remember?"

"Oh," Coulson said. "What'd she say?"

"Yes, of course!" Fitz broke in.

"Good for you two," Coulson said. He turned to leave. "Oh, and Lincoln?"

"Yes, Sir?"  Lincoln asked.

"If you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Understood, Sir.”

"Good." And with that, he left.


	3. Sweatshirt (Macklena)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Elena is cold, and Mack is careless with his words and clothes

Elena grumbles to herself as she shivers in her room. The compound's air conditioning has been acting up, sending freezing air throughout the building, causing icicles to sprout on pipes and vents.  
  
She rubs at her arms, eventually grabbing the thin blanket that rests on her bed and wraps it around her, but it does little. With a huff, she glares around the room until her eyes settle on a lump of black fabric haphazardly thrown over the back of a chair.   
  
Still huddled in her blanket, she gets up and shuffles over to the chair. With great difficulty, she manages to lift the pile of fabric without losing the blanket around her shoulders.   
  
It's a sweatshirt, faded, black, and absolutely gigantic. A tag on the inside reads "Alphonso Mackenzie," and she knows instantly it's Mack's.   
  
Deducing he must have left it the last time he was around, she runs a finger over the cloth, noting how soft it is. A moment later, she ditches the blanket and pulls the sweatshirt over her head.   
  
It's incredibly comfortable, and incredibly huge on her small frame, but all the extra fabric seems to generate more heat, and she hugs it closer to her body.   
  
Mack was going to have a hard time getting it back.   
  
Needless to say, Mack is rather taken aback at the sight of her.   
  
"Is that mine?" he asks.   
  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mack," Elena replies smoothly, tugging at the edge of the sleeve.   
  
It's hilarious, to see, honestly. She's already fairly small, and the bottom of the sweatshirt drapes over her thighs. It looks like she's wearing a really baggy dress, but she's so cute he can't help but let out a deep chuckle.   
  
"Are you making fun of me, Mack?" she demands, her dark eyes narrowing.   
  
"Nah, Yo-yo," he assures her.   
  
She stuffs her sleeve-covered hands into the pocket of the sweatshirt. "Then why are you laughing?"   
  
"It's not my fault you're so goddamn adorable." The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself.   
  
She raises an eyebrow. "Adorable?" she repeats, her Spanish accent rolling the 'r', making her all the more endearing.   
  
"Yeah," he admits. "You're adorable."   
  
She uses her powers to zoom over to him, looking up at him, in an attempt to stare him down.   
  
"Am I, now?" she challenges   
  
He chuckles again and looks down at her, towering over the small Colombian. He bends down and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. Elena blinks in surprise, her bewildered expression only adding to her cuteness.   
  
"Yeah," he answers.   
  
She scowls adorably. "Tienes suerte de que eres guapo," she mutters, and he smirks, having brushed up on his Spanish recently.   
  
"I know I am," he replies cheekily. He kisses her again, this time on her cheek.   
  
"Keep the sweatshirt. It suits you."   
  
"I never intended to ask for permission," she counters.   
  
Mack laughs. "That's why I like you, Yo-Yo."   



	4. Same Bed (FitzSimmons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fitz reflects on his sleeping arrangements with Jemma.

Fitz can't remember when he and Simmons started sleeping in the same bed.

  
It was sometime after that mission in Romania, where he and Jemma had really taken their friendship turned romance to another level.

  
But he can't  remember when exactly they began sharing sheets and pillows, (though Simmons, unsurprisingly, likes to cocoon herself in all the blankets.)

  
It's difficult to remember the details of when she migrated to his bed, how he soon ended up knowing exactly what her pajamas looked like.

 

Burned into his memory, (however pleasant the recollections) is the feel of her skin under his fingertips, the smell of her hair after a shower, and her laugh whenever he manages to find light in the darkness of the current situation.   

 

The new Director is hellbent on keeping Coulson’s original team apart, but he's taken a liking to Jemma, which is both positive and negative.

 

On the plus side,  she's earned the Director’s trust, which in the future might help the team in tracking down Daisy.

 

Despite this, Simmons’ high status means that Fitz sees less and less of her, her new job requiring her to harbor secrets and run countless errands.

 

It makes him grateful that they share a mattress now, because it's really the only time they get to see each other.

 

Still, it's almost worth it when she curls up next to him in the evenings, and he knows that for a few precious hours, she's his. No Director, no Spectrum of Security, just them, in his bed.

 

He just wishes there could be more of it, because he really does cherish every moment of it.

 

She smiles at him now, and he smiles back as her lips press against his, before she curls up into his side. 

 

 Oh, yes.

 

He definitely treasures this. 


	5. Daring Risk (Macklena)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elena makes a dare and Mack takes a risk

Elena Rodriguez, for all her sharp angles and often blunt personality, is a good person.

  
  
There is, however, a certain rebellious streak in the Colombian that Mack finds both incredibly appealing and mildly terrifying.

  
  
And he is not one to be terrified easily.

  
  
Perhaps it's when her already low voice drops a few husky octaves, or when her lips turn up into an almost devilish smile.

 

Maybe it's when, rather than using her powers to place herself in front of him, she chooses to take slow, purposeful steps towards him.

  
  
Maybe it's when her petite but lithe frame gets unnaturally close to him, or the mildly  suggestive words  she says, hinting at things both innocent and not   
  
One thing's for sure: Mack seems to lose his head and ability to speak completely whenever any of the aforementioned behaviors occur.

  
  
She tells him in her accented voice that he needs to live a little.   

  
He wonders if he knows what she has in mind when it comes to him "living."

  
  
He knows that before her, no girl ever made him squeak  when they hinted at a date.

  
  
Yup, squeak. Alphonso Mackenzie, _squeaking_ when a short, albeit beautiful, woman (with superpowers, in his defense,) suggests a date with him.

  
  
Daisy would never let him live it down, if she were here.

 

He can't deny he's not disappointed when they get interrupted by Coulson.

 

Admittedly, he's occasionally relieved that the pressure is lifted.

 

Still he wonders what would happen if he took Elena at her word.

* * *

 

All she’s done so far today has been to hint at going to dinner together once more. He's the one who offered the first time, before the Accords and the new Director.

 

And he really wants to, but SHIELD and its shiny new Director would never allow it.

 

She's getting ready to leave when she makes another comment about moving fast.

 

In a split second of nerves, he blurts out, “You really gotta stop doin’ that, Yo-Yo.”

 

She raises an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

 

“Sayin’ things that make me wanna kiss you.”

 

He can't believe those are the words that leave his mouth. Both of them go still for a moment,  and he's torn between letting it hang and taking it back.  


He really doesn't want to take it back, but he doesn't quite want to die of embarrassment either.

 

A moment after her shock abates, she nears him, a small, wry smile on her face. “Maybe I want you to kiss me,” she says quietly as they stand extremely close to one another, her gaze tilted up to meet his gaze.

 

Despite all he's been through, all the things he's faced, this showdown between the two of them makes him slightly weak in the knees, and she knows it.

 

Definitely not a good thing.

 

Her lips turn up into that familiar smile she wears when she knows she has him wrapped around her finger, no matter how hard he tries to avoid being ensnared. “So, Mack,” she prompts. “Are you a man of your word?”

 

It's a dare, a risk, and when it comes to her, he's willing to take it.

 

Before he can completely lose his cool, he bends down and presses his lips to hers.

 

His mind is screaming at him so loudly he barely notices her pressing back.

 

He jerks away, and the apologies are already forming on his lips, but the way she smiles triumphantly renders him speechless.

 

“Finally,” she murmurs, winking at him  before turning away to  face Davis, who is ready to take her back to the Quinjet that will take her home.

 

She leaves him wordless  with a wink, and an approving smile.

 

He makes a mental note to schedule something for the two of them the next time he checks up on her, the Director and his security be damned.

 


	6. Dirty Tricks (QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Robbie and Daisy are cheaters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who finally got all caught up in season 4?
> 
> If you said "AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed" you'd be right. 
> 
> Written for the prompt: Imagine your OTP fighting over the remote

“Hand it over.”

 

“No way.”

 

“Daisy-”

 

She smiles sweetly at him, her expression one of innocence. He reaches for the remote clutched in her hand, but she holds it out of his reach, dangling it over the back of the couch, threatening to make it lost forever.

 

“Come on, you don't really want to watch this movie for the fourth time this week,” he says, trying to reason with her.

 

“Maybe I do.”

 

He huffs an exasperated sigh and her smile gets wider.

 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he says warningly.

 

Her brown eyes brighten with challenge, daring him. “Not a chance,” she says.

 

He shakes his head. It didn't have to come to this. “Hard way it is.”

 

“What are you doing? Don't even think about-ack!”

 

She shrieks, her swearing dissolving into laughter as his fingers slide up under her shirt and dig into her side.

 

“Hey! Not-fair-Robbie!” she manages to say inbetween giggles, and he's reminded of how beautiful she looks when she laughs.

 

“Your own fault, _cariña._ You never should have told me you were ticklish,” he tells her, taking the opportunity to pluck the remote of of her hand, and ceases his attack.

 

“That's a dirty trick, Reyes,” she says, out of breath,  and he knows she's about to lunge for it. Grateful for the height difference between them, it works out in his favor as he turns the tables, holding the remote aloft.

 

She tackles him, pinning him to the couch, but he's still able to deny her what she wants.

 

“Robbie, give me the remote,” she whines.

 

“What? You mean _this_ remote?” He waves it, taunting her.

 

She glares down at him, and he's about to tease her a little more when her lips press firmly to his, effectively surprising him as she straddles his waist.

 

“That's a dirty trick, Johnson,” he says as she comes up both for air and a chance to swipe at the remote, but only succeeds in her fingers grazing his wrist. “Want to try that again?” he dares softly, smirking at her. Her eyes narrow down at him, and he can't help but smile into the next kiss she gives him.

  
Her hands tangle in his hair, and the remote clatters to the floor, soon forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss Lincoln with all my heart, don't get me wrong, but I also really love Robbie.


	7. Guessing Game (QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daisy gets help from a good Samaritan

Daisy made a silent vow to herself to never listen to a thing Jemma Simmons said ever again.

 

_“It'll be fun!” she said._

 

_“You need to get out more,”  she said._

 

 _“I won't leave you alone,” she said_.

 

Yeah right.

 

Jemma was probably off making out with Fitz in a bathroom somewhere, and Daisy was stuck at the bar, trapped in a conversation with a hot but incredibly irritating douchebag who went by the name Grant.

 

“What did you say your name was again?” Grant asked her.

 

“Skye,” she lied.

 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Grant said, grinning at her, but it felt predatory. He went back to talking about himself, and her eyes scanned the club for someone, anyone, to help her out.

 

She finally made eye contact with a fairly attractive guy wearing a black jacket two tables away. He looked at her oddly as she tried to communicate her predicament by widening her eyes and making subtle and vague gestures, and she was starting to lose hope when he stood up.

 

_Yes! Please come over and help- wait, shit, no, he's walking away! Goddamnit!_

 

She screamed internal curses at the universe.

 

“You know, my eyes are up here,” she said irritatedly as Grant’s gaze dropped once again to her cleavage, and she swore to herself that Jemma was so not allowed to pick out her clothes anymore as she tugged on the hem of the too-short skirt covering only half of her thighs.

 

“Sorry, did you say something?” Grant asked. She clenched her jaw and was about to unleash her pent-up emotions when-

 

“There you are, _cariña._ I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

 

She turned on her stool to see the guy in the black jacket she'd thought she'd scared away.

 

“Who's this, Skye?” Grant said pleasantly, though the way he glared at her savior was less than warm.

“Thanks for taking care of my girlfriend while I was gone, but you can go now.” The other guy's arm settled lightly across Daisy’s shoulders, enough to make it look convincing.

 

Grant stood up from his seat, looking daggers at him, but finished his drink and stormed off.

 

Daisy let out a sigh of relief. “ _Jesus Christ,_ thank you so much. I thought he'd never leave.”

 

The guy smirked and took Grant’s empty seat. “Well, far be it from me to not help a girl who seeks rescue from total strangers.”

 

She laughed. “Sorry about that. I was getting desperate. What's your name?”

 

“Robbie. And you are...Skye, was what he said, right?”

 

“That's...not actually my name,” she admitted.

 

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “So what is it, then?”

 

“Well…”

 

“Come on, I save you and you won't even tell me what your name is?” he said in mock hurt, but the grin on his face spoiled the tone he was trying to create.

 

“Maybe you could guess it?” she said. “I'll buy you a drink if you get it right within three guesses. If not, you buy me one.”

 

“A chance to win a drink?” His smile grew wider. “I accept. You're going to have to give me a clue first.”

 

“Okay...flowers. That's your clue.”

 

“Flowers?” Robbie repeated. “You don't look like a  flowers person.”

 

“Tell that to my parents. Come on, guess.”

 

“Alright, alright.” He looked her up and down, tapping the bar with gloved fingers. “Flowers…” he mused. “Rose?”

 

“Nope,” she said cheerfully.

 

“Damn.”

 

“Do you give up?” she asked slyly.

 

“Never.”

 

She laughed. He leaned forward a bit, his dark eyes focusing on her face. “Hm...Lavender?”

 

“Not even close.”

 

He sighed. “This is impossible.”

 

“Maybe you're just not trying hard enough,” she teased.

 

He opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment, Jemma _finally_ decided to show up.

 

“Daisy! Are you ready to-oh, hello.”

 

“Daisy?” Robbie repeated in disbelief. _“That's_ what your name is?”

 

“Oh no, was I not supposed to tell him?” Jemma fretted.

 

“You only cost me a drink, Jemma, nothing else,” Daisy said reassuringly. “Alright, Robbie, I'll pay up.”

 

“How about we call it a tie?” Robbie offered.

 

“Define ‘a tie,’” Daisy said.

 

“We exchange numbers and buy the other a drink.”

 

Jemma smacked Daisy on the arm excitedly. 

 

Daisy only rolled her eyes at her friend and smiled. “Sounds good to me. Shake on it?” She extended a hand, and with a small laugh, he took it.

  
Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.


	8. Nightmares (QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daisy has nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to fill prompts, but this happened instead

Robbie Reyes has a lot of nightmares. He relives the night he became Ghost Rider, feels the fear that threatened to choke and kill him throughout the car chase, as he was thrown from the car, how all he could think about was Gabe. He sees his first kill, and the many others that followed it, hears screams and pleas for mercy, echoing in his head until he wakes in a cold sweat. Worst of all, sometimes he sees Gabe, broken and bloody on the ground, his chest no longer moving, his eyes staring at the sky.

 

That’s the only one that hasn’t come true yet.

 

The one thing that SHIELD really gives him refuge from is the nightmares. He can’t sleep in that bunker, it puts him too on edge. He’s constantly expecting a squad of police officers or an entire task force bursting through the door to drag his ass to prison.

 

So instead of sleeping, he sits awake in the common room of the base, fiddling with a few bits of metal and broken tech that he finds lying around the base. It gives him something to do, but not much.

 

To his surprise, he’s not the only one.

 

Every night during the first few weeks that Daisy is here, she brings half the base running with her screams, the product of what he guesses is a fucked up past and nightmares. Eventually, she gives up, refuses Simmons’ attempts to prescribe sleeping aids and other medicines, and joins him in the common room.

 

The first night she comes out, there’s a storm. Thunder echoes, so close but hard to hear through layers of insulation and inches of steel. He can imagine it, if he closes his eyes; he can picture the rain trickling down the windowpane of his house, can imagine the way thunder rattles its frame.

 

There’s no storm in Los Angeles, though, he doesn’t think.

 

Well, how would he know? He doesn’t even know where he is, let alone how far away Los Angeles is.

 

He opens his eyes with a frustrated growl and sees Daisy standing a few feet away from the couch, wearing sweatpants and a tank top.

 

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” She sounds small, nothing like the girl who strutted into the auto shop the night after their brawl and dared him with her eyes to do something while she talked to his coworkers.

 

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

 

“Oh.” She stands there, brown eyes bleary with exhaustion, glancing around the room.

 

“Bad dreams?” he asks.

 

Her head snaps back so she can face him, an angry retort on her tongue. It fades when she sees his face, completely serious. She looks down at her hands, not answering him.

 

“Me too,” he admits. She glances back at him, her expression almost one of disbelief.

 

Robbie moves over, now only occupying one cushion on the small couch. “Sit down. I won’t bite.”

 

A little uncertainly, she moves towards the couch. “Will you burst into flames?”  She’s teasing him, he knows, but he humors her and says, “No, I don’t think so.”

 

A weak laugh tumbles from her as she sinks down next to him. “Are you always out here?” she asks.

 

“It’s impossible to sleep here,” he says. “I’d rather be awake anyway.”

 

She makes an irritated sound, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m really tired, but I don’t want to sleep,” she says.

 

“Because of the nightmares?”

 

Her nails worry at the skin of her palms. “Yeah.” The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent without her usual shield of makeup.

 

“If you want to try and sleep out here, I’ll wake you up if you start getting them,” he says quietly.

 

She glances up at him. “Seriously?”

 

“Seriously.”

 

She blinks slowly, trying to think.

 

“Okay,” she finally says after a few minutes. “If you’re sure.”

 

At his nod, she curls up on the other end of the couch, and even with her knees tucked into her stomach, her socked feet still rest an inch or two away from where he sits.

 

“You want me to move?” he asks.

 

“Not unless I’m bothering you,” she answers, her head resting on the arm of the couch, her eyes already closed.

 

“Guess I’ll stay then.”

 

It doesn’t take long before he hears her breathing settle, and when he glances over at her, she looks, for the first time since he’s met her, completely at peace.

 

For a few hours, anyway.

* * *

 

Daisy’s head is absolutely _murdering_ her. Wincing, she runs a hand through her hair and her fingers come away bloody. The sun shines on motionless bodies and flies that surround her where she stands on the asphalt. Her limbs and eyelids feel heavy, like time is slowing down her movements, and the world looks hazy.

 

She tries to walk away from the destruction around her, down the road, stepping over spread-eagle corpses and blood-stained hands. The air reeks of blood and death, threatening to suffocate her.

 

There's no end to the carnage, and the further she walks, the worse it gets. She's about to fall to her knees and join the nameless victims when she hears tires squealing, and looks up to see a certain ‘69 Charger tearing down the road, running over bodies and cracking bones. It comes to a stop a few feet away from her, and relief sweeps through her.

 

She starts to stumble towards the car as the driver's side door opens.

 

“Thank God, I thought I’d have to-”

 

The words die on her lips when she sees that isn't Robbie Reyes who steps out of the Charger, or even the Rider, but Grant Ward. Fear and revulsion flood whatever semblance of sanity she has, and she staggers back.

 

It's not really Ward either,  she realizes, but Hive as he raises a hand, and it dissolves into dust that floats on the blood-tinged air towards her.

 

_“Daisy?”_

 

She knows how this dream will end, just like it does every time Hive is involved: it ends with the entire team and anyone she’s ever cared about dead at her hands, and she can’t watch it, not again not again not again no no no no _no_ -

 

_“Daisy, wake up.”_

 

She jerks awake, choking on her own scream, and she sits upright. A sound, unlike anything she's ever uttered before, comes out of her, and her fingers fist in her own hair, ready to tear it out.

 

 _“No-”_ Her voice cracks and scratches the air, strangled and raspy.

 

“Daisy, hey, look at me.”

 

Her breathing is rapid and she's shaking like she's having her own personal earthquake. Slowly, the world starts to return to normal. The air is clear, not congested with the scent of blood, and there’s a dim light illuminating it rather than the harsh sun, and instead of Hive-

 

“Daisy, can you hear me?”

 

Her eyes fall on Robbie, still sitting next to her on the couch. Her heartbeat continues to pound in her ears and chest, threatening to jump out of her throat. Her hands, still shaking, fall to her lap, and his hand gently settles on her wrist.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

 

She can’t speak, and her vision turns him into a blur as tears fill her eyes and spill over. She swipes them away and forces her eyes to squeeze shut, not wanting him to see her cry.

 

“Hey-” His hand comes up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “It’s okay to let it out, you know.”

 

She isn’t sure if it’s the uncharacteristic softness in his voice, or the permission to allow herself to feel, or just being overwhelmed in general, but whatever it is, it splits the dam wide open.  

* * *

 

She breaks down completely, fighting for breath inbetween sobs with tears coming in droves, and Robbie knows he’d be lying if he tried to tell himself that he knew what to do.

 

Not wanting to push boundaries too far, his arm curls around her shoulders, coaxing her into a sitting position that doesn’t make her look like a human pretzel, quite literally giving her a shoulder to cry on.

 

He isn’t sure if it’s him or the Rider that wants to bring hell’s wrath down on whoever hurt her enough to cause this.

 

After a little over twenty minutes, her tears subside long enough for her to whisper, “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize for having feelings,” he says. “You’re only human.”

 

“Inhuman, technically,’ she mumbles, lifting her head from his shoulder to look up at him.

 

 _“Shh,_ I’m trying to make a point about your emotions being valid,” he says, though his tone is light and it brings a ghost of a smile to her lips.

 

“Thanks, for…you know.”  

  
“Yeah, well-” He ruffles her hair to tease her and it makes her smile a little wider. “Anytime, _chica.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, can't you just think about Robbie having major anxiety after the whole I-died-in-a-car-crash-and-sold-my-soul-to-the-devil thing though? 
> 
> Anyway, lemme know how this went


	9. Birthday (Macklena)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mack gets a birthday present.

“Happy birthday.”

 

Mack looked up from the SHIELD car he was fixing and craned his neck to see who was speaking. 

 

“Thanks, Yo-Yo,” he replied, a little surprised. How did she-?

 

“I got you a present.”

 

Mack turned his whole body to face Elena. “You did?” 

 

She grinned at him, handing him a small package wrapped in brightly colored paper. He took it from her, shaking his head at the tag that read  _ To Turtleman.  _

 

“I have to ask...why didn't you tell me it was your birthday this weekend?” she questioned. 

 

Mack shrugged. “It didn't seem important, what with all the crazy robot crap and a part-time vigilante with a flaming skull joining us.”

 

“What? You don't like Robbie?” she joked. 

 

“Ah, he's fine. I think he's more Daisy’s type, from the look of those two. And hey, he likes cars. That's good enough for me,” he added. 

 

“You just want to work on his car.”

 

“I  _ really _ want to work on his car.” 

 

Elena laughed. “If Coulson wouldn't let you touch Lola, you have a snowball's chance in hell to get near Robbie’s car.” 

 

“Her name's Lucy,” Robbie said as he and Daisy passed them, probably off to go bang in a supply closet or kick ass or something, “-and you're not going within ten feet of her.” 

 

“Thanks, Reyes, I feel so loved,” Daisy said sarcastically. 

 

Elena and Mack turned their attention away from the two, so Robbie’s response went unheard. 

 

“Who told you it was my birthday, anyway?” Mack asked. 

 

“Simmons. I overheard her talking to Fitz the other day about what to get you. I'm not telling you what they came up with, either.” 

 

“Damn.” 

 

She laughed. “Anyway, here's your present, Turtleman. You can open it later.” 

 

“Why not open it now?” 

 

“Good point. I would love to see your face. Go ahead.”

 

Mack looked at her suspiciously. “What'd you do to it?”

 

“Nothing at all,” she said, oh-so-innocently.

 

Squinting at her, he tore the paper away, revealing a small white box underneath. Lifting the top and peeking inside, he instantly looked back at Elena and scowled. She, of course, laughed her ass off.

 

Inside the box, amid purple tissue paper, lay a turtle made out of green glass. 

 

“Ha, ha, Yo-Yo. Very funny.”

 

“I thought so too,” she said. “But, I did get you something else.”

 

“And what would that be?” he asked. 

 

“My undying love,” she replied. “Kidding, partly. It's a promise from Coulson to let you have thirty minutes with Lola. We share the gift.”

 

Mack smiled. “Are you serious?”

 

“Yes, and it took three hours to get him to agree to it, so spend your time wisely.”

 

“I love you, Yo-Yo.”

 

She smirked. “I know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My own birthday is actually on Friday, so I think that's what made this happen. 
> 
> Sooo, it was short, I know, but what'd you think?


	10. Still Learning (QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Robbie is easily distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by nightmare huntress (mafiamoll)
> 
> "Robbie attempting to teach Daisy some Spanish, heavy on domestic fluff ;D (bonus points for background MackElena, esp if it involves Robbie & Elena teasing their hopeless partners in Spanish together)"
> 
> I totally took inspiration from "Sunrise," from In the Heights and I plead guilty.

“Ready to try again?” Robbie asks.

 

“Hit me with it,” Daisy says.

 

_“Esquina.”_

 

“Uh…” Her nose scrunches up as she tries to recall. “Damn it.”

 

He smirks, and she scowls at him.

 

“Wait! It means ‘corner,’ I remember now.”

 

_“Tienda.”_

 

“Store.”

 

_“Bombilla?”_

 

“Uh, lightbulb, I think.”

 

“You sure?” he asks, to mess with her.

 

“Y-yeah.”

 

He won’t lie, her features painted with confusion are quite the endearing sight to see.

 

He sits back in his chair, pretending to check the vocabulary sheet she found for practice.

 

“You freaking know Spanish, you don’t need that!” she says indignantly. She raises her eyebrows at him, and he keeps his expression neutral.

 

“Well? How’d I do?”

 

“Well…” he drawls. “Three out of three. You did alright.”

 

She pumps a fist in the air. “Yes!”

 

 _“_ _¿Todavía estás tratando de enseñarle?”_ Elena Rodriguez says, coming up.

 

“What?” Daisy says, and Elena grins in response.

 

 _“¿Sί y que hay de tu novio?”_ Robbie answers Elena.

 

She waves her hand as if shooing away a fly. _“Él sabe lo suficiente. Lo habla mal, pero es suficiente.”_

 

“I’m only understanding like half of the words you guys are saying, and I still have no idea what’s going on,” Daisy says.

 

 _“Pobrecita,”_ Elena says, shaking her head, and Daisy looks affronted at her tone.

 

 _“Ella aún sigue aprendiendo,”_ Robbie replies.

 

 _“Buena suerte.”_ Elena leaves, and the minute she’s gone, Daisy snatches the vocab sheet from his hands.

 

“Hey!” he objects.

 

“Just refreshing,” she says, her eyes scanning the page. He plucks it out of her hand, and she flashes him a sweet smile, leaning forward, chin in hand, trying to peer over his arm covering the sheet.

 

“Eyes up here, _chica,_ ” he says.

 

“Hmph.”

 

 _“Anoche,”_ he quizzes her.

 

“Last night.”

 

_“Azul.”_

 

“Blue. Duh.”

 

_“Margarita.”_

 

She squints at him. “That’s not on the list.”

 

“No, but you’ll need to know it,” he says, grinning in spite of himself.

 

“What, for when I order drinks?”

 

He rolls his eyes. “No, to introduce yourself.”

 

 _“Daisy?”_ she says. “It means ‘daisy?’Are you serious?’

 

“Dead.”

 

She mock-glowers at him. “You could’ve mentioned that before.”

 

He just smirks and glances down at the vocab sheet again, about to pick a new word.

 

“Hey, Robbie?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How do you say ‘kiss me?’”

 

“You-what?” He looks up at her.

 

She smiles at him, chin still in hand, her fingertips resting against her bottom lip. “How do you say ‘kiss me?’” she repeats, maintaining eye contact, though her face has colored a bit.

 

He breaks his gaze off first, glancing down at the sheet once again.

 

 _“_ _Bésame,”_ he finally says, looking back up at her, and her smile grows a little wider.

 

“I’ll have to remember that one,” she says softly, and the intensity in her eyes makes something lodge in his throat.

 

“I- _árbol,”_ he says, trying to recover.

 

She gives a small laugh and says, “Tree.”

 

It’s too late though, she already knows she’s thrown him off, and he would be irritated if it weren’t for the way she looks at him, like he’s hung the stars in the sky, and he can’t remember the last time anyone looked at him like that.

 

 _Dios,_ she drives him mad in so many ways.

* * *

 

The rest of the lesson goes about the same. He can’t concentrate when he’s practically drowning in her eyes, swallowed up and pushed under by her gaze, which never falters, not once. _Ella es una marea creciente,_ and he’s completely overwhelmed.

 

When it ends, he stands to leave, to try and get some form of fresh air, but as he passes her, she catches his wrist, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

 

“Hey, Robbie?”

 

He turns to face her. “Yeah?”

 

She stands too, and she’s almost unbearably close now.

 

 _“_ _¿Bésame?”_ she whispers, and, well, who is he to deny her what she wants?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUESS WHAT I HAVE A QUAKERIDER PLAYLIST ON SPOTIFY YOU CAN FIND ME @caleopercebeth#1
> 
>  
> 
> Translations (listen guys I've only taken two years of Spanish so far so I had to rely on Google Translate I'm sorry if it's wrong.)
> 
> ¿Todavía estás tratando de enseñarle?: Are you still trying to teach her?
> 
> ¿Sί y que hay de tu novio?: Yes, and what about your boyfriend?
> 
> Él sabe lo suficiente. Lo habla mal, pero es suficiente: He knows enough. He speaks it badly, but it's enough.
> 
> Pobrecita: Poor dear
> 
> Ella aún sigue aprendiendo: She's still learning
> 
> Buena suerte: Good luck
> 
> Ella es una marea creciente: She's a rising tide
> 
> If you speak Spanish and I butchered this language, please let me know what to fix and I'll do it.


	11. Car Chase(QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a car chase and Robbie has a panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: anxiety attacks

Robbie can’t remember the last time he was this anxious. Sure, he gets a little jittery every time he gets in a car, gets worse when someone else is in it with him, and it’s catastrophic when he’s the one driving, though he can usually tamp it down if he has time to prepare.

 

When three different cars come at him from three different directions with Daisy at the wheel, however, he doesn’t have time to prepare, especially when there’s nothing they can do and the only option is to drive it out.

 

This, this overwhelming nausea coupled with his heart pounding at a million miles an hour is the absolute worst, and he’s shaking so much he feels like he’s going to come apart at the seams, his hands are gripping the seat and he _can’t fucking breathe._

 

Daisy’s knuckles are ghost-white on the steering wheel of her car, her foot annihilating the gas pedal and her eyes keep flicking from the view ahead over to him. The tires scream on the road as she jerks the wheel, trying to lose their pursuers, horribly reminding him of the night he became Ghost Rider.  

 

Gunshots crack the air and the back window, and Robbie feels like he’s about to pass out.

 

“Robbie, listen to me,” Daisy says over the chaos as she turns the corner, and he latches onto her voice like it’s a lifeline.

 

“Listen, I need you to breathe in and count to four, then do the same thing when you’re breathing out,  and keep doing that, okay?” she says. “I’m sorry I can’t do it with you right now, but I need you to try it and listen to me.”

 

He forces a breath into his lungs, draws out the inhale for the four seconds, struggling to do the same with the exhale.

 

Jesus, is this how Gabe felt the first time? Did he feel dizzy enough to the point where the world was upside down, did his heart try to hack its way out of of his chest, did he-

 

“Robbie, don’t think about anything else but the breathing,” Daisy says as his breathing staggers again. “Just count and breathe.”

 

He sucks in another breath: One. Two. Three. Four. Exhale, count again. Repeat.

 

Daisy mutters to herself over and over in the driver’s seat, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got this, we’re going to get out of this.” She swerves into an alley, banging into trash cans, ripping bags open and spilling waste onto the ground before turning onto another street, still whispering those same words.  

 

Weaving through street after street, they finally, _finally_ lose their opponents, and Daisy pulls to a stop in a run-down gas station. He wrenches the car door open, stumbling out, but his legs are practically jelly and he falls to his knees. His heart's still pounding, he’s still dizzy as hell, and his hands tremble even as they’re braced against the concrete-

 

“Robbie!” He hears a car door open and slam, and then Daisy’s there, kneeling down in front of him, and even she’s swaying and blurring in his vision.

 

 _“_ _Hazlo parar,”_ he gasps. _“Ayúdame, por favor, hazlo parar.”_

 

“Shh, it’s okay,” she says, trying to steady him, and at her touch he practically collapses, his forehead falling onto her shoulder, eyes screwed shut. “Just breathe, okay? Here, I can do it with you now.”

 

Time passes, he’s not sure how much, but she gets him to sync his breathing with hers, and with more time, the world stops swimming.

 

“This is good, you’re doing really well,” she says soothingly, “Everything’s okay, we’re both safe, everything’s fine and this will be over soon.”

 

Time crawls along a little more, and his heartbeat slows, the nausea mostly fades and his hands still shake, though not as much. He lifts his head from her shoulder, and while dots dance in his vision from having closed his eyes for so long, he’s thankful that the world no longer spins.

 

“How do you feel?” Daisy asks, her concerned gaze scanning his features.

 

“Better,” he says, whispers, more like.

 

“That’s good,” she says reassuringly.

 

“We-” he draws in a deep breath, “-we should go.”

 

“You want to try and go back to the house?” she asks, and when he confirms this with a nod, she helps him to his feet and into the car.

 

Neither of them say a word on the way home.

 

They, do, however, say plenty later, when Gabe is asleep and they’re in the company of each other and a six-pack.

“You doing okay?” she asks, leaning against the kitchen counter while he sits at the table.

 

“Yeah,” he says, staring at the bottle in his hand, looking at his distorted reflection in the brown glass. “Thanks...for-for earlier.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.”

 

She shakes her head. “I’ve had tons of panic attacks. I know how much they suck. I’m just sorry we couldn’t avoid the chase.”

 

She pushes off the counter and pulls up a chair to his right.

 

He can’t meet her eyes, because he felt so goddamn _weak_ earlier, and he loathes feeling that way.

 

“Robbie,” she says softly, and her touch is cool and electric as her thumb skims over his cheekbone, and he closes his eyes. “This isn’t something to feel guilty about. It’s okay.”

 

“No, it’s not,” he says, forcing his eyes open to look at her, “I hate it. I feel- _broken_ when this shit happens, and-I don’t-I can’t-”

 

“I know,” she says quietly, and there’s no pity in her expression, just open sincerity.

 

He can’t do this, he doesn’t know how to have these kinds of conversations. Leaving the half-empty beer bottle on the table, he stands up. “I’m going to bed,” he mutters.

 

“Okay,” she says, but as he passes her, she stands up, leaving her bottle next to his, her hand gently resting on his shoulder, and like the idiot he is, he makes the mistake of meeting her eyes.

 

“I know you feel broken,” she whispers, “But you’re still Robbie Reyes and I think you’re perfect.”

 

Something lodges in his throat, and he can’t say anything as her hand slips from his shoulder.

  
“Night,” she says softly, and then she’s gone, into the living room to crash on the couch, and he’s left alone in a room with two half-full beer bottles and a twinge of something in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...comment/kudos, please?
> 
> Translations (again lemme know if I effed up)  
> Hazlo parar: Make it stop
> 
> Ayúdame, por favor, hazlo parar: Help me, please, make it stop


	12. Ass-Crack of Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Robbie's timing is a tad off, a fact FitzSimmons laments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a ficlet bc none of my longer stuff wanted to be complete.
> 
> Happy birthday to me! 
> 
> Based on the prompt: "You better have a good reason for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

“Jemma.”

 

“Fitz,” Simmons says sweetly.

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“If we don’t hurry, he might have to leave and then she’ll be even angrier at us than she would be if we wake her up!”

 

“In that case, why don’t you do it?” Fitz asks.

 

“Fitz, please,” Simmons implores, “I’ll do all the dishes for two weeks.”

 

“A month,” Fitz declares. “A month and nothing less.”

 

“Fine,” she sighs. “Now get to it!”

 

Fitz grumbles to himself all the way down to Daisy’s room. Why him? Why not May, or someone who was equipped to handle Daisy in her grizzly bear mode?

 

Stopping outside Daisy’s door, he takes a deep breath, and goes in.

 

“Daisy, wake up,” he says to the pile of blankets on her bed.

 

No answer.

 

Though he’s curious as to why Daisy would have a bo staff in her room, he nonetheless picks it up and prodded the pile of blankets, gently at first, but then more insistently.

 

“What the fuck,” he hears from under the blankets, muffled and exasperated.

 

“Daisy, wake up,” he says again. “Please?”

 

“Fitz?” she mumbles, and then her head pokes out, hair messy and eyes drowsy.

 

“Yup, it’s me,” he says, his voice going a pitch higher, hoping that this wouldn’t turn into a repeat of the 9 A.M. Donut Catastrophe of 2015, a day everyone on the team swore they’d never speak of.

 

“Time?” she asks, a roughness to her voice.

 

“3:45 A.M.”

 

“You better have a good reason for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn.” Her tone is flat, and far too menacing for someone who just woke up.

 

“It’s a very good reason,” he assures her. She somehow makes raising an eyebrow look exhausting.

 

“What?”

 

“Robbie’s back.”

 

Those two words have such an incredible effect on her. The mountain of blankets is pushed back almost immediately, only slowed by her delayed reaction time, and she sits up.

 

“Are you serious?’ she says.

 

“Yup.”

 

She mutters a curse and runs a hand through her hair. “Fucking figures, at three fucking A.M….” Pushing off the bed, she yanks a sweatshirt off a nearby chair and pulls it on over her white camisole then pads over to the door in socked feet, and Fitz follows her, breathing a huge sigh of relief that she didn’t try to kill anyone this time.

 

Robbie needs to show up more often if this is the result, though preferably at a more reasonable hour.

* * *

 

“I’m definitely seeing that my timing was off,” Robbie says to Coulson, glancing around at the other agents, all decked in various types of sleepwear. He’s wondering if he should leave and come back later.

 

“A bit. We’ve been invaded at earlier times,” Coulson tries to joke, standing there in Captain America sweatpants. Robbie vaguely remembers Daisy telling him all about Coulson’s obsession with the super soldier, as well as her confidence that Ghost Rider would kick Captain America’s ass.

 

“We have?” Daisy asked, walking into the room, Fitz on her heels. “When was that?”

 

“You slept through it,” Simmons reminds her.

 

“Ohh, right,” she says. “That made for a really weird dream.” She turns her attention to Robbie, and even with the drowsiness not quite gone from her eyes, she gives him a small, tired smile.

 

“It's good to have you back, Reyes,” she says.

 

He looks at her, with her hair in mussed waves, dressed in boy shorts and a dark blue sweatshirt along with brightly colored mismatched socks, and realizes that he definitely came at the right time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment/kudos, please!


	13. Heat (QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's fucking hot.
> 
> Prompt fill for an anon and nightmare huntress (mafiamoll): "Listen to me, okay? We're getting out of here together."

There is heat and then there is  _ heat. _ There’s working in a car shop in the middle of the hottest summer one can remember with a broken air conditioner, there’s breaking down on the side of the road in July, and then there’s this.

‘This’ being on another world, where twin suns beat down on a barren red ground, where dust swirls in hot winds and sticks to the sweat that runs down one’s face, where even the devil inside you is burning alive, this is true heat.

Robbie doesn’t think he’ll ever complain about another L.A. summer again.

"Well, it could be worse," Daisy says, her fingers digging into Robbie's shoulder as she struggles to keep herself upright. "We could be stuck in another dimension, with our powers not working, one of us barely able to walk and facing certain death-wait, I forgot-that's  _ exactly _ the kind of scenario we're in-"

"I appreciate your optimism," Robbie says dryly, "And neither of us are dying."

"Speak for yourself," Daisy replies. "You can walk." 

His gaze flicks down to the large gash in her leg hindering her movements, blood soaking through their makeshift bandage. 

“And,” Daisy continues, oblivious to his scrutiny, “You’ve also got the whole vengeance demon thing going on, you  _ can’t  _ die. Now, me, on the other hand-”

“Over my dead body are you dying here,” he counters, granting her a wry smile in an attempt to cover up the seriousness of his statement.

“Did you just-was that a joke?” Daisy demands. “Did you, Robbie Reyes, just make a joke?”

“I do have a sense of humor, you know,” he says. 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He rolls his eyes at that, along with her feigned surprise. He has a sense of humor, of course...or the charred remnants of one. Having the devil inside you tends to make for a rather bleak outlook in life, with little energy for jokes. 

He certainly has no energy for jokes at the moment, because Daisy does bring up an unfortunately true conundrum. This world has drained them both, between the heat, the creatures that live on it and their injuries, or Daisy’s, at least.

Hope isn’t completely lost, however. The benefits of being a sorcerer-in-training include having friends with considerably higher magical accomplishments, meaning that a portal is open and waiting for them a ways away, but can only stay open for so long. This world has quite a few things on it that need not wander through to a gentler planet.

The portal will be closing soon, a thought that weighs on his mind almost as much as Daisy’s hand on his shoulder as she uses him for support.

"You should go ahead, without me," Daisy says, as if commenting on the weather.

He stops in his tracks, making her stumble a bit as their steps fall out of sync, and he's forced to tighten his grip on her waist. "What?" he says, giving her a chance to retract her statement.

"Go on without me," she answers without hesitating. “You have a better chance of getting to the portal in time if you leave me behind.” 

She’s got to be kidding. There’s no way she could be serious.

Unfortunately, he knows Daisy too well to know that it’s only his own denial talking. Before she can go on a self-sacrificing spiel, he decides to nip it in the bud, because honestly, with Daisy that’s the only way to go.

“Listen to me, okay?” he says, making sure he has her undivided attention. “We're getting out of here,  _ together _ .” 

She raises an eyebrow, but can clearly see in his expression that this isn't up for debate, because she doesn't argue.

“If you say so,” she says, her tone displaying that he is doing this at his own peril. 

It isn’t at his own peril, though. He’s invincible, however depleted his energy reserves are; perhaps he can’t open his own portal, but death is simply not an option for him. Daisy is another story. 

Several different scenarios do flash through his mind, all paranoid what-ifs for the end of their journey, and far too many of them finish with Daisy gone before they can reach the portal, or running out of time. 

Those aren’t options either. 

He can see the portal, all whirling sparks and fire through the clouds of red dust, and heaven and hell be damned, they are going to make it, because he isn’t accepting another outcome.

 

Her injured leg gives out about twenty feet from the portal, and her knee hits the ochre ground, and Robbie is regaled with a series of self-loathing curses that fall in breathless coughs from her dust-coated lips. Her hold on his shoulder is strong enough that she brings him down with her, but since he is in considerably better shape than she is, he’s able to haul her back up. 

Luckily, they're met halfway by his friend, Imani, who runs through to help him guide Daisy the rest of the way, giving Daisy someone else to stagger on next to. 

The minute they're through and the portal is closed, the two of them collapse on the floor in due celebration, utterly exhausted and on the verge of heatstroke, if not already being affected. 

He glances over at her lying on the ground, motionless. Verbally prodding her, he says,“Hate to say I told you so, but-”

“Oh, shut up,” Daisy wheezes from her spot on the floor, eyes closed and covered in red dust, and that's when he knows that she'll be just fine. 


	14. Spectacle  (QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gabe is a spectator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For nightmare huntress (mafiamoll), who gave the prompt:"Give me my phone back!"

Despite being the youngest, Gabe is a firm believer in the fact that he is the only true adult in the house. His point is only proven as he watches Daisy chase Robbie around the house, calling for him to “Give me my phone back!” 

 

Gabe isn't sure who started it, but knowing them, it began as banter that grew into a contest, and with the two of them being as competitive as they are, neither are willing to lose this round. As childish as it is, Gabe can't help but be amused as he views the spectacle before him. 

 

And besides...it's nice to hear Robbie laugh again, so genuine and so often. 

 

They've gone around the house at least five times, and Gabe almost feels sorry for Daisy as he takes in the color in her cheeks and the way her hair flies out behind her, because she's up against a guy who was a track star before dropping out of high school, a guy who was famous for being the fastest player on the soccer team. 

 

Still, her secret agent training must give her some advantage, which she uses as she finally tackles Robbie near the couch and brings them both to the floor with a dull thud in a sprawling mess of limbs and breathless laughter. 

 

Daisy untangles herself first and rises, holding  her phone aloft almost triumphantly, a victory short-lived and diminished as Robbie picks himself up off the floor and catches her before she can run off. She looks like she weighs nothing as he lifts her a good four feet off the ground.

 

She protests with a volume that could wake the dead, but she's smiling as she warns him not to drop her, a prospect he feigns offense at before pretending to do just that. She shrieks loud enough to raise hell, but her indignant scolding is interrupted with her own laughter as Robbie manages to smile his way out of another lecture (there's one thing that hasn't changed).  

  
Gabe rolls his eyes at the display before him, because  _ God, they are such teenagers. _


	15. Rain (QuakeRider)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt given by whistlingwindtree: "How did this happen?"

It’s three o’clock but feels far later as Robbie drives down the slick road ahead of him, glancing up at the cloud-darkened sky. Around noon, the sky had opened up and rain didn’t just fall, it plummeted, and hasn’t stopped since.

 

He’s on his way to pick up Gabe, on the same reliable route he’s known for years, where nothing unusual ever happens, until today.

 

He’s sure the rain is screwing up his vision at first, when his gaze momentarily drifts over to the sidewalk and falls on Daisy, but even after he’s done his double take, it sure as hell is her. She’s carrying a backpack slung over her shoulder, her body curling in on itself slightly as she tries to protect herself from the rain, walking along the concrete in the opposite direction. The street is empty, so no one is around to witness his illegal U-turn.

 

He rolls down the driver’s window and calls out her name, but between the rain spattering the ground and the hum of the Charger’s engine, he has to shout it a few times before she finally hears him. 

 

She turns, a perplexed look on her face that gives way to a smile when she recognizes the Charger, hurrying towards his open window as he rolls to a stop.

 

“Hey!” she says, grinning despite the way the rain trickles down her cheeks like tears, as if this is any normal day and they’ve run into each other on the sidewalk. 

 

“What are you doing out here?” he asks.

 

“Long story,” she replies sheepishly.

 

“Come on, get in,” he says, gesturing to the seat next to him, and as she walks around to the passenger’s side, he reaches under the seat and pulls out a towel usually used for when the night job gets...well, messier than normal, but that hasn’t happened in a while, so it’s more than safe for her to use. 

 

He hands it to her when she opens the door, but rather than trying to dry herself off, she uses it to shield the seat from her dripping form, a gesture that he does appreciate, but he’s a little more concerned about her getting sick. Her backpack thuds on the floorboard and she runs a hand through her hair.

 

“Thanks,” she says a little breathlessly as she pulls the door closed.

 

“Sure thing. How did this happen?” he asks, gesturing at her waterlogged state.

 

“My van ran out of gas,” she answers before elaborating, “I meant to refill, but there were these girls being followed so I gave them a ride, and, well...yeah.” 

 

“You could have called me,” he says, taking in her drenched appearance. Her hair is soaked and she tries to keep it from dripping onto the seat; what little makeup remains is smudged and almost gone, and her clothes are clinging to her in ways that he’s determinedly trying (and failing) to ignore.

 

“My phone died,” she says, shrugging. 

 

“Today just isn’t your day, is it?” he jokes. 

 

“It’s been a bit of a mess, but...things seem to be looking up at the moment,” she replies with a soft smile that he pretends not to see as he pulls the Charger out of its stationary position and returns to driving. 

 

He glances over at her as she gazes aimlessly out the window, watching the raindrops race down the glass, and there’s something pleasantly secure about the whole situation, but he can’t quite place why.

 

/

Rain falls onto the roof of the Charger, and Daisy finds herself lost in thoughts and space. There’s a gentle conversational quiet between her and Robbie, but it feels more comfortable than anything else. The atmosphere is not limited to such silence, however, as demonstrated by the lull of the engine, the way Robbie’s keys rattle together and swing in the soft light, and the faint murmurings of some old song coming from the almost mute radio.

 

Robbie Reyes’s car is the last place she would have expected to feel at home in, but, well...life is full of surprises. 

 

Even more surprisingly is the fact that Robbie feels pretty damn close to home as well, if not more. 


	16. Distractions (QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for whistlingwindtree : "That's distracting." + college AU bc why not

It’s 1 A.M. and Daisy Johnson is is quickly becoming the bane of Robbie’s existence, earning a new title among the many names she’s had over the course of her life.

 

Not that she wasn’t already, he supposes, with her sparkling eyes and dark hair and the way she’s currently stretched out on his dorm room’s couch, tossing crumpled paper balls at the ceiling.

 

“Robbie, I’m bored,” she whines as another paper sphere smacks the ceiling and falls back into her waiting hands.

 

“That’s a shame,” he replies from his spot on the bed, looking over his calculus assignments. Math has never been his strong suit, but it’s not his weakest, either (He’s very relieved he doesn’t have to write literary analysis papers anymore).

 

Daisy sighs in frustration at his indifference and chucks her paper ball at him. It bounces off his head and lands on top of his textbook. Without thinking, he picks it up and tosses it back while mock-glaring daggers at her. He immediately regrets his decision when he sees the grin that lights up her expression; now she thinks she’s been able to lure him into a game.

 

She’s lucky she’s cute.

 

“Don’t you have homework to do?” he asks in an attempt to distract her. Surely, as a computer science major, she’s got tons of work to complete.

 

“Already did it,” she answers, throwing the ball back at him, and it lands in his lap.

 

“Good for you.” He doesn’t bother aiming for her, just hurls it across the room as hard as he can, and the paper ball thunks against the door. She makes a sound of annoyance, getting up from the couch and padding across the room.

 

“Don’t,” he warns, seeing her pick it up and getting ready to throw it out of the corner of his eye. “I need to do this, and that’s distracting.” At least he’s almost done.

 

She huffs and lets her arm drop to her side, and pretending not to see her pout, Robbie returns his full attention to his homework.

 

That is, for all of about five seconds before the ball smacks into the side of his head. He glances up at her, annoyed, and she beams innocently back at him.

 

“This is mine now,” he says, holding up the paper ball, hoping it’ll discourage her, but it takes a lot to keep Daisy from doing anything. Instead, she just looks unjustifiably indignant.

 

“Hey!” She crosses the room and tries to snatch it out of his hand, but he just leans back, holding it just out of her grasp.

 

She retaliates by completely invading his space as she reaches for it, close enough for him to breathe in the scent of vanilla, close enough that if she turned her head ever so slightly, their lips would meet. The thought catches him just enough off-guard that she’s able to extricate the paper ball from his hand.

 

She gives him a teasing grin as she withdraws, just as quickly as she came, tossing herself back onto the couch. “I hope Fitz leaves my room soon,” she sighs. “I love him and Jemma, but they need to get a room that’s not mine.” The paper ball resumes its original cycle of flying towards the ceiling before dropping back down, though she quickly grows bored of that, the entertainment drained away, and swipes his roommate’s book for their literature class off the coffee table.

 

His eyes won’t focus on the numbers in front of him, instead they keep flicking up and over to her; meanwhile his fingers are tired of toying with pencils and book pages, instead they itch to run through her hair.

 

There’s no point now, not when he can still smell vanilla, not when her lips were barely an inch from his just a few moments ago, and definitely not when she’s still over here in his room, aimlessly flipping through a copy of _Jane Eyre_.

 

He’s too distracted, and he grits his teeth as this occurs to him, tearing his gaze away from the couch and back to the paper in front of him until she gets a text from Jemma and leaves.

 

She really is the bane of his existence.

 

Still, as distracting as she is, he knows that he’ll never tell her that she’s not welcome. This wasn’t the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last.


	17. Crush Report (BioQuake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based off the prompt "you found me crying in the computer lab over an assignment i'd just lost everything on and tried to help me" plus a college AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so exists my first BioQuake piece!

Three hours and four shots of espresso had come and gone, and Jemma Simmons was very pleased to report that she had finally, _finally_ finished her lab write-up. It had been an increasingly difficult one about brain chemistry, and as much as she loved what she did, she was thoroughly exhausted. Still, she had put in her best effort and was quite pleased with the result.

 

Pleased, that is, until she went to print it and the screen went blank, to be replaced by a few words that read: _Your session has timed out._

 

“Wh-no, no, no!” Jemma frantically pressed buttons on the keyboard, feeling an onslaught of panic wash over her. She started another session, but when she went to the program she used to write the lab, there was nothing there.

 

Tears of frustration pricked the backs of her eyes. It couldn’t all be gone, it just couldn’t be. She’d worked too hard on this.

 

Jemma Simmons was not a violent person, but she slammed her fist down on the tabletop, rattling the keyboard.

 

There wasn’t anything she could do, either. The only person she knew who could possibly fix this was her best friend, Leo, who was probably already in his bed at his dorm, no doubt sleeping peacefully and dreaming about monkeys.

 

It was all her fault, really. She shouldn’t have waited so long to do this, and now Professor Weaver was going to be so horribly disappointed in her. That particular thought was what set the tears loose.

 

Jemma Simmons wasn’t really a crier, either, but this seemed to be a night for plenty of exceptions.

* * *

 

Daisy was just trying to get back to her dorm. It had been a very tiring two hours of circling through buildings and dimly lit sidewalks after managing to shake the creepy guy from the coffee shop (His name had been Greg or Grant or something), and now her latest turn through the campus labyrinth involved making her way through the computer science building.

 

She just wanted to get home and relax when she heard a sniffling sound coming from a nearby computer lab. Poking her head through the doorway, she saw a girl crying in front a monitor at the back of the room.

 

Bewildered, she tapped on the doorframe, and the girl’s head jerked up. Shit. She was really cute, even with red eyes and a ponytail half-undone from stress.

 

“Are you okay?” Daisy asked.

 

The girl swiped at her eyes. “I-yes, I’m-” She sighed. “No, I suppose I’m not.”

 

Oh, God. A British accent? That wasn’t fair at all.

 

“You-you wanna talk about it?” Daisy offered awkwardly. _Smooth, Johnson._

 

The girl took a deep, shaky breath. “Well, um, I’ve spent ages on this lab report, and the system timed out, it must be faulty or something-”

 

“This lab is kinda famous for that,’ Daisy said, nodding.

 

“And-and now the damn thing is gone and I can’t get it back because I’m a bloody biochem major, not computer engineering or programming or anything of the sort and-” She broke off, burying her face into her hands.

 

“I am,” Daisy said quietly.

 

The girl looked up. “You-you are?”

 

“I’m a computer science major,” Daisy elaborated. “Would you...want me to try and see if I can’t get it back, recover it somehow?”

 

“Oh, could you?” the girl said, a bit of hope blooming on her face, “That would be wonderful.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Daisy said, crossing the room, and the girl moved over a seat. “I’m Daisy, by the way.”

 

“Oh, that’s a lovely name,” the girl replied, and Daisy felt her heart skip a beat, “I’m Jemma.”

 

“That’s pretty,” Daisy said neutrally. _You’re pretty too_. She turned to the computer screen, hoping her hair was hiding the way her cheeks colored, and started typing.

* * *

 

After eleven and a half minutes of Daisy typing and Jemma wringing her hands, the entirety of the lab report finally popped back up on the screen.

 

Jemma couldn’t believe her luck. Not only did she have three hours’ work recovered in less than fifteen minutes, but an astoundingly pretty girl had been the one to come to her rescue.

 

She could’ve kissed Daisy as the computer printed out her report.

 

“You really did it,” she marveled. “You’re incredible!”

 

“Nah,” Daisy said, blushing a bit. “I just know some stuff.”

 

“You’re too modest,” Jemma said. “How can I ever repay you?”

 

“Ah, don’t worry about it-”

 

“No, really, there must be something,” Jemma pressed. “Do you like coffee? Or tea? There’s a wonderful cafe near the university-or if you don’t like that sort of thing, there’s an ice cream shop a little further-”

 

“I- coffee’s fine,” Daisy said. “But it’s not necessary…” She trailed off at the pleading look on Jemma’s face.

 

“Well…” She ran a hand through her hair. _Dear Lord._ “If you insist.”

 

“I do,” Jemma affirmed.

 

Daisy picked up a stray Sharpie from a nearby seat, and her fingers curled around Jemma’s wrist. Jemma was very glad Daisy wasn’t in health professions because it would have been very embarrassing if she noticed Jemma’s suddenly quickening pulse.

 

Daisy scribbled a phone number on the inside of Jemma’s wrist. “There, now we can work out the details,” she said, satisfied. “Want me to walk you back to your dorm? It’s late, and us girls have to stick together.”

 

Jemma smiled. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can pry bisexual/pansexual Daisy Johnson and Jemma Simmons from my cold dead hands


	18. Study Sessions (QuakeRider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill: "I didn't know you could do that" plus a college AU
> 
> Send me prompts guys! They're almost as great as comments lol

Study  dates sessions with Robbie were all fun and games until something disastrous happened. In the past, ‘something disastrous’ had included being interrupted by Fitz and Simmons bursting into the dorm in a failed attempt to get a room, getting kicked out of the library due to a spilled white chocolate mocha, and neither Daisy nor Robbie would ever forget the time Fitz set fire to the curtains on accident. 

 

She sometimes wondered if they were signs from the universe to try and tell her to give up on working up the courage to ask Robbie out.

 

While this time around wasn’t the most disastrous, it was definitely new. 

 

To be fair, Daisy should have been studying; instead she was compiling an email to Trip, the TA for one of her least favorite classes. It was 2 A.M. and both she and her unspeakably hot friend/crush were running on determination, two hours of sleep and RedBull. 

 

So really, it was understandable that she didn’t realize she’d sent the email to the wrong person until after she’d pressed SEND, the wrong person being the professor she’d just spent 254 words vilifying and complaining about.

 

“Shit,” she said when she realized her mistake. “Oh, shit, shit, shit,  _ shit.” _

 

Robbie looked up at her “What is it?” he asked, seeing her horrified expression and taking a pull of what was probably his third RedBull.

 

“I just sent an email talking about how terrible Professor Garrett is...to Professor Garrett,” she said, sounding a bit disbelieving at her own stupidity.

 

Robbie choked on his drink. “Are you serious?” he said when he had recovered from his coughing fit, raising his eyebrows at her.

 

_ “Yes,” _ she whined, her sleep-deprived hysteria growing. “Shit, shit, shit!” 

 

“Well, you’re a computer science major, aren’t you?” he said, grasping at straws in an attempt to calm her down. “Can’t you like, trace the email and delete it?”

 

“I haven’t gotten to that part of the course yet!” Her hands buried themselves in her hair, ready to pull it out. “Oh, God, I’m so fucked.”

 

“I’m...sure it’ll be fine?” Robbie tried. “Maybe he won’t say anything.”

“No, Robbie, he’s literally famous for calling out everyone who says they hate him in class and insults them until they cry. Later, he fails them.  My anxiety cannot handle that and I need to pass this class-”

 

“Could you hack into his email?” 

 

“Yeah, but I’d need to be in front of his computer-”

 

“Come on, then,” he says, swiping his keys off the coffee table in her dorm. 

 

“‘Come on?’ Where are we going?” she asked, perplexed.

 

“You said you need to be in front of his computer. I’ll get you there,” he said, pulling on his jacket.

 

Was she hearing him right? “How are we going to get into the building?”

 

“Leave that up to me. Come on, Dais, I’m running on three RedBulls and have nothing to lose. Let’s save your ass from Garrett.” He flashed her a tired grin.

 

Hoo boy. Her crush was definitely not getting worse at all, nope, not a bit.

* * *

 

“We’re gonna get caught,” she whispered when they were outside of Professor Garrett’s office. Robbie had a friend who was a custodian for the building; therefore he knew exactly where the spare key was hidden.

 

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” he said as she tugged on the knob to Garrett’s office.

 

“Fuck, it’s locked,” she hissed.

 

“‘Course it is,” he said. “Here, move, I’ve got this.”

 

“Are those  _ my _ bobby pins?” she demanded as he pulled something out of his pocket and knelt in front of the lock.

 

“Ain’t my fault you leave them everywhere,” he countered, fiddling with the lock. “There’s a whole bunch of them in my glove box now. Keep watch, will you?” 

 

“You really think you can pick that?” she said, complying and glancing over her shoulder

 

“I don’t _ think _ I can-” There was a click, “-I know.”

 

The office door swung open as Daisy stared incredulously.

 

“I didn’t know you could do that,” she said.

 

“I’m full of surprises,” he replied loftily as she bolted inside the office, making a beeline for the computer chair. She didn’t even need to hack anything to log in, the idiotic so-called professor left the login information on the monitor.

 

“God, I could kiss you, Reyes,” she declared, as the computer opened straight to Garrett’s email, almost immediately wanting to kick herself.

 

“Let me take you out for coffee first, Dais,” he replied, leaning against the desk. 

 

Her fingers froze on the mouse, one click away from deleting the email that would be the cause of her academic death. Her gaze flicked up to meet his.

 

“A-are you serious?” she stammered, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be looking at her like that if he was joking.

 

“Are you?” he countered softly. 

 

Nerves buzzing, she deleted the email and rose from the chair. He watched her, apprehensive as she edged around the desk, closer and closer until they were only inches apart, the air between them charged with an almost tangible tension.

 

“Forget the coffee,” she said before pulling him down by the collar of his jacket to press her lips to his.

 

For all the unexpected things that had happened during their previous study sessions, kissing Robbie Reyes against a professor’s desk was definitely at the top.

 

She would never dare to call it disastrous, however. 


	19. Safety (QuakeRider)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short prompt fill for "just one drink"

Daisy Johnson had always struck Robbie as the type who didn’t belong in any particular place. She was a wild card, a wanderess who lived in the shadows rather than a house, someone who didn’t seem to have a definition of home. 

 

A puzzle piece who couldn’t fit herself into anywhere.

 

So why did she look so perfectly in place leaning against his kitchen counter?

 

By all accounts, she shouldn’t. All dressed in black, sporting a gash across her cheek and a shiner that even makeup couldn’t conceal, her hands curled around the edges of the countertop as she faces him, she should look like an anomaly.

 

But she doesn’t. 

 

“So...you’re back.” Her words hang heavy in the air between them, pulsing with a million different things that go unsaid. “Is it for good?”

 

He tries to tell himself he’s only imagining the hope in her eyes. “Yeah, I think so.”

 

She smiles, soft and genuine. “Good.” 

 

Her eyes are too bright, too gentle, so unusual from what he’s experienced the last few months. 

 

“The Darkhold’s safe,” he says, breaking eye contact, so unused to someone looking at him like that.

 

She nods. “That’s good too,” she says. “But you being back is better.” She edges off the countertop, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before crossing her arms. 

 

“Yeah?” he says, pushing down the warmth that wells up in his chest.

 

“Yeah,” she affirms. “What do you say we celebrate?”

 

“Celebrate what?”

 

“You being back, obviously,” she laughs. “That’s a miracle worth a trip to the bar, don’t you think?” 

 

“Nah, I don’t-”

 

“Come on, just one drink. My treat,” she coaxes, and maybe it’s the way she smiles, maybe it’s the plea in her tone, maybe it’s the teasing puppy-dog eyes she gives him, but something about her turns his thoughts into static.

 

“Well...alright,” he concedes, and her grin grows even wider, and then she’s close, _ so close, _ but she’s just reaching behind him to grab her keys, the scent of vanilla following her like it always does.

 

“Come on then,” she says, and since his words aren’t working, he just follows her out to her van, though in his opinion, ‘rusty tin can’ would be a better description. 

 

The inside isn’t much better; the seats are cracked and there’s papers and boxes everywhere in the back, and the cover on the steering wheel is ripped and spilling dust onto Daisy’s clothes, but she doesn’t seem to care. 

 

However wrecked her van is, there’s a distinct feel of Daisy to it, and there’s something inherently comforting about it all. 

 

She starts the engine, flashing him a small smile as she steers the van onto the road, and he realizes what’s so relaxing about Daisy.

 

Because she feels like safety and home in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

 

She feels like a friend, even if he wants her to be more. 

 

That thought makes him want to drink it all away. 

  
  



	20. Return (QuakeRider)

All in all, it had been a pretty shitty mission, Robbie thought as he glanced over at Fitz, who was nursing the sprained wrist he’d suffered. They’d done their best, but neither of them were exactly skilled in medical practices.

 

The team is waiting for them when the doors slide open and grant them entry into the base. Fitz touches the makeshift bandage on his head unconsciously as they walk down the ramp, Robbie trailing behind him to allow him the luxury of being greeted by people who care.

 

Not to say the team doesn’t care about him, but Robbie knows the way things work in groups. They’ve known Fitz longer, they’re going to make sure he’s okay first. 

 

Robbie tells himself that’s fine, but that resolve flickers when he sees Simmons pull Fitz into a hug, eyes screwed shut as she buries her face into his shoulder. Robbie allows himself a small moment of selfish jealousy...no, not jealousy.

 

_ Wistfulness _ feels more right. 

 

He tries to slip away, off to his bunk, but he’s stopped by a hand taking his own. He turns to see Daisy, pushing down the warm glow that blossoms in his chest at seeing her, so different than the sharp, burning rage the Rider usually makes him feel.

 

The way she’s looking at him is odd, or maybe he’s just not used to anyone looking at him like that, a relieved smile and eyes tinged with evidence of earlier worried tears. 

 

She wraps her arms around him before he can say anything, her embrace tight but gentle, and it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him like this, he forgets how to react, to reciprocate. He hugs her back slowly, breathing in the scent of her, vanilla and sandalwood. 

 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispers softly, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his jacket. He secures his embrace a little firmer as her words register. She cares. 

  
That feeling of knowing that he matters, to someone, to  _ her, _ feels pretty damn great.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/ kudos, please!


End file.
